


Memories of a Mother

by BetterThanCoffee



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Post-Southern Raiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:11:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2523548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterThanCoffee/pseuds/BetterThanCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though her mother cannot answer, Katara still speaks to her. Post-Southern Raiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of a Mother

**Author's Note:**

> My own mother died very suddenly when I was eleven years old. A lot of the emotions Katara expresses are my own. Everyone experiences grief and loss differently, and I don't want anyone to think I am projecting that this is "normal" behavior when once experiences the loss of a mother.

Staring into the eyes of her mother's murderer, Katara was faced with a choice. She could feel the power swelling underneath her skin, illuminated by the full moon shining down upon her. The rain churned around her, tickling her skin in a teasing dance, begging to be manipulated. Begging to slit the throat of the man who showed her ilk no mercy.

It would be so easy to achieve. It could be quick, with the slice of an icicle. Or it could be slow. Katara could create a bubble of water around the old man's head, and watch him slowly drown to death, choking and gasping for air when there was none to be found. There wouldn't even be a mess, in the end. All the evidence of Katara's sin would be washed away with the rain, until it flowed off into the river and reaching the ocean, where the act would disperse to never be seen or heard from again.

In the end, Katara couldn't do it. Zuko had congratulated her on being strong and taking the high road, but Katara disagreed. She was weak. The call of the Southern Raider's blood had been so strong. The image of the crimson liquid spilling on the ground, swirling into a sick concoction with the rain made her pulse race, but not with revulsion.

In the past, Katara never had the stomach for blood. Even before she discovered her healing abilities that were tied in with her waterbending, Katara was familiar with acting as nursemaid to the women in the Southern Water Tribe. Her Gran-Gran would often call on her to help with childbirth, which while exhausting was bearable. It was the accidents that Katara could not handle.

One winter, when hunting for seals, before all the warriors fled their village for the war effort, Kanto, a well-tempered middle aged gentleman, got half of his side ripped apart from the sharp fangs resting under the sweet faces and whiskers of the animal. Katara was only slightly younger than Aang at the time, but she did not feel nearly old enough to be confronted with Kanto's intestines spilling out from his side, as blood soaked through his overcoat and dripped onto the pure white ground. Katara had to slip out of the healing tent to empty the contents of her stomach. Sokka caught her gasping and wheezing, as bile dripped from her lips, but he never told anyone. He just steadied his sister with a firm hand, and led her back to the healing tent.

Learning from bloodbending from Hama, just a month prior, had been such a repulsive concept to Katara, that she had broke down in tears in Sokka and Aang's arms. The boys sheltered her, until the moon sunk below the horizon, and the tantalizing pull from its ivory rays released their grip on Katara. Yet, in such a short span, she had broke and used bloodbending on a man whose crimes held no ire with Katara.

What kind of person was she becoming? Katara was always strong in her convictions, and yet, that night, she was confronted with the opportunity to show mercy to the man who granted her none, and instead, it was her own cowardice that spared that man his life. Katara couldn't complete the act. Normally, her morals would be screaming in her mind, rattling to get out their confines, but tonight, her mind was silent. Her own reservations of murder had slipped away just as her chance to seek revenge for her mother's death.

Walking to the edge of the dock, far from where the others were camping, Katara dipped her feet into the water, wanting to feel grounded by her natural element. Slipping her mother's necklace from her slim neck, Katara held it in a tight fist, her tan fingers squeezing so tightly, they turned as pale as Aang's own skin. The Water Tribe necklace was the only physical reminder of Katara's mother left in her possession, and yet, it wasn't enough. A necklace doesn't compare to a warm hug, or a lullaby, or a kiss goodnight. At the end, the necklace was just an object.

"Why did you have to leave?" Katara whispered, unfurling her fingers from the necklace, so the pendant lay in the center of her palm. "Why did you have to leave me? Didn't you know how much we needed you? How much I needed you?"

"You're so selfish, do you know that?" Katara continued on, unheeded by the tears that were now flowing freely down her face. "What kind of mother leaves behind two children? We weren't even old enough to take care of ourselves, and yet, you decided to leave anyway! Why couldn't you just fight back?"

The fact that Kya had sacrificed herself for Katara had left a weight on her chest like no other. Kya had claimed to be the last waterbender in the tribe, while sending the real waterbender away from the conflict. Her mother had lied through her teeth for her, and instead of asking for a demonstration, or imprisoning her like the previous benders, Kya was immediately slaughtered in her own home.

"You should have just given me up, instead." It was logical. Katara was only a child with no redeemable skills at that point. Kya wasn't that old, either; she could have had another child. She still had Sokka to watch over and care for. Perhaps the Fire Nation would have shown mercy towards Katara, as she was just a child. There were so many other possibilities that made so much more sense to Katara than just needlessly sacrificing yourself.

Did her mom want to die? Was she not happy living her life in the Southern Water Tribe with two kids and a husband? Kya used to tell Sokka and Katara fantastical stories of creatures all over the world – a world which Kya never got to discover. She had never stepped foot out of the arctic.

Perhaps the murder was really a suicide by association. Kya was an intelligent woman. She knew what she was doing. It would have been so easy for her to manipulate the man before her, a peon of the Fire Nation, to bow to her own whim. Just as Katara could control the actions of men with her bloodbending, Kya could do the same with her words. She was married to the chief of the tribe for a reason, and it wasn't just for her aesthetics.

"Why it that horrible? Our family? Me? Did you want to get away?" Gripping each end of the ribbon with her forefinger and thumb, Katara watched the necklace sway gently, and contemplated dropping it. She could just release the necklace, and let it sink into the water below, dragging down any memory of her mother with it. The necklace was so small; there wouldn't even be a splash. Perhaps letting go of the past would be for the best.

As it was, Katara was still a coward. She couldn't get rid of her last token of her mother. Sokka might have the luxury of looking into Katara's face and seeing a reflection of their mother, but whenever Katara looked into a mirror, she just saw broken pieces of her dad. Her dad's nose and chin jutted out from her face, setting off her Gran-Gran's eyes. She didn't see a modicum of her mother anywhere.

Bringing the pendant up to her lips, Katara pressed the softest of kisses upon its surface. "Even if you wanted to leave, I still love you. I will love you forever, and I will never stop missing you."

Putting the necklace around her neck once more, Katara felt a sense of completeness. Even if her childhood was broken, she had built herself back up, and with those pieces, it included the necklace – a piece of her mother. On some level, she knew her mother loved her. Some days that thought was more fleeting than others, but as long as the choker sat firmly in place, Katara was able to convince herself that her mother at least cared. Katara could hear Aang's footsteps approaching her from behind. Even if her mother was gone, she had a new family now. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't always ideal, but for now, it was enough.


End file.
